Will I?
by Quickbeam10
Summary: Trapped at the Ponderosa by an intruder with only his injured Pa and Hop Sing to assist him, will Joe be able to overcome the odds against him without compromising himself in the process?  Based upon a song


Will I?

_"Will I lose my dignity?_"

Slowly the boy brought the back of his arm to his bloodied mouth, dragging the sleeve of his taupe shirt against it to wipe away the oozing, red dampness. So intent in the moment, that the additional pain this simple action caused was oblivious to him. His tearing, green eyes darted back towards the intruder looming over him.

"You do something stupid like that again, boy, and I'll kill your Pa, soon as I finish skinnin you!"

With this threat, Joe's troubled glare softened as it moved past this menacing figure to meet his father's pale, motionless face upon the settee. The crimson stain spreading across his blue shirt front was growing wider in diameter with each passing minute. Shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear the prevailing muzziness this man's prior violence had caused him, the youngest Cartwright fervently wondered how he would be able to get them out of this desperate situation.

The clock ticking across the room dragged him from this brief lapse into thought. Its face told him it was fast approaching 10._ 'Had it been just been a little over two hours since this terrible nightmare descended upon them?_'

Not given any time to contemplate this miserable weight further, the gnarled cowpoke's iron grasp dropped towards Joe's left shoulder as he yanked the boy to his feet. Lingering wooziness accompanied his assault as the man quickly let go of him, and Joe struggled to remain upright, while harsh laughter resounded in his ears.

"You look as if you've be dippin into your father's fine brandy, boy," the stranger howled while he watched with amusement the young man's stagger as he tried to remain on his feet unsuccessfully.

"Guess a good kick in the head will do that to a person who ain't followin directions. Let that be a lesson to ya, boy. I won't be so nice to you next time..." He breathed while extending a strong arm forward to balance the youth as Joe swayed towards him. So close now was their proximity, that Joe could smell the combined reek of whiskey and stale tobacco upon his captor's breath. The odor alone, without benefit of the recent head injury he sustained, was enough to turn his stomach. Cold sweat popped out upon his face as he fought to gain control of the rising bile that threatened to follow.

"You don't look too good, kid. Ya ain't goin to be sick on me, are you? Cause I don't have time to mollycoddle ya!" The intruder barked. "Iffin your father would just wake up, then I could be on my way." Grapsing Joe's forearm tightly, he pulled the boy closer to face him. "I hope you weren't lyin to me before when you said you didn't know the safe's combination!" He threatened. Then not waiting for the youth to respond, he continued, "I guess I shot me the wrong Cartwright. 50/50 chance that it'd be your Pa who came through the door first. Didn't know the shot I got off would have such damn, good aim... Don't think he even knew what hit him... Course, there's ways of getting him to come round..." The intruder grumbled as he pushed past Joe roughly and turned his attentions towards where his father lay.

With two strides the cowpoke was beside the settee, while his beefy hands grasped hold of the edges of Ben's tan, leather vest. Jerking the unconscious man forward, he began shaking him with all his might as he hollered, "Come on, old man! Wake up!" Becoming increasing riled by the second, the intruder raised his right hand as if to strike the defenseless man across the cheek until an unexpected impediment stopped him in his tracks.

Fighting back nausea, Joe hurled himself between the stranger and his helpless father. Grabbing the trespasser's arm between his two own, Ben's youngest son attempted with his lesser weight to stop him from causing further harm to the man he loved most in this world.

The larger man, easily shook off his attempt at interference as he sent the boy reeling across the room into a side table. The furnishing catching the boy at his thigh before upsetting his already precarious balance and sending him toppling towards the floor. A boot to the side quickly followed in good measure as the intruder dealt with him as he would with any stray dog he might come across in his travels, before turning his attentions back towards the man of the house.

Aside from now half hanging off the settee, Benjamin Cartwright's previous condition changed minimally as he remained incognizant to any further threats against his household. The boy , however, curled into himself as he nursed this newest injury hurtled against him. Breathing felt almost impossible during the many long moments following until at last the life sustaining rhythm resumed its pattern in now short, sharp bursts.

Cruel satisfaction gleamed within the stranger's smokey grey glare, as he eyed the boy's current discomfort. '_At least someone besides himself was feeling put out by this annoying turn in events,'_ the man reconciled with displaced anger._ 'If only it could be the big man lain out across from him, then he might be getting somewhere. But_ _for the time being, this didn't seem the likely case._'

Grumbling loudly, he pronounced, "Go untie the Chinaman in the kitchen and see if he has anythin I could use to pry open that stinkin iron box! And remember, if you or the Chinaman do anything, ANYTHING, I'll make sure your Pa over there never sees the light of day again! Understood?"

Still incapable of speech, Joe could only nod his head, as he drew his legs into himself before turning with some difficulty in a struggle to get back onto his feet. Pain lanced through him with the effort, but eventually he was able to accomplish the task. Keeping a protective arm wrapped around his middle to support his now injured ribs, he gestured towards his Pa while beckoning to their captor, "Please, let me see to him first." And if expecting an argument in return, he continued in a whispered gasp, "It won't do you no good, if you've harmed my pa further."

Surprisingly the cowboy backed away and acquiesced, allowing the boy room in which to maneuver past him, before settling his heavy weight into one of the side chairs to keep watch of the situation. "You've got a minute, kid, so make it fast."

Joe staggered over towards his father. Then, crouching down beside his still head, he murmured, "Pa, it's Joe. Are you alright? He hasn't hurt you any further, has he?"

Ben Cartwright's ashen face remained unchanging to his son's quiet words.

"Pa?" Joe appealed again. "Please, Pa, you've got to be alright!"

"Please, Pa..." The dark stranger mimicked before snarling, "Be done with it, boy, before I see to it that he ain't alright! To the kitchen, now!"

Eyeing the man across from him warily, Joe remained rebellious, as he rose not to do the man's biding, but to position himself, so he could grasp his father beneath his arms and settle his large frame, once more, securely upon the narrow settee. The defiant action proved costly towards his own good as he felt the painful pull of now cracked ribs. Biting back a groan, he moved his face back toward his father's, their cheeks almost touching, as he whispered, "You just rest, Pa. I'll take care of you."

Then, seeing the brute across from his shifting menacingly in his seat, he backed away as quickly as his injured body allowed him and made his way towards the kitchen as he heard the man call tauntingly behind him, "That's it boy. Hurry! And remember, your pa gets a bullet in the head, if you decide to pull any funny stuff out there, so don't go trying to be a hero. Ya hear me?"


End file.
